


take a chance on me

by fiercynn



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5 Things, First Time, Friendship, Kirk's the first in line!, M/M, Romance, if you change your mind!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercynn/pseuds/fiercynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times McCoy didn't take a risk for Jim Kirk, and one time he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take a chance on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zephyrprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyrprince/gifts).



> Originally posted [here](http://fiercynn.livejournal.com/52606.html) in 2009, takes place after the first movie. Thanks to slylilgoblin, veverghede, and Scribe for encouraging, beta-ing, and most importantly putting up with all my whining. Title from ABBA because...well, do I need a reason? ABBA!

**1.**

Joining Starfleet was a bit of a mix between joining the civil service and starting college again.

"An orientation social?" said McCoy in disbelief.

Jim Kirk shrugged, glancing down at the new recruit schedule. "After a dinner lecture from Admiral Archer on the value of building community aboard a starship. Oh, joy." He tossed the data-pad on his bed. "At least it doesn't involve filling out any more forms."

"Don't jinx it," said McCoy darkly.

They had barely arrived in San Francisco that morning before they were being ushered into a dozen different offices to register themselves as cadets. Because they were both late additions, Kirk and McCoy had to jump twice as many hurdles as most of the incoming students, and subsequently ended up together more often than not, waiting in various lines. The room assignment office was one such place, and as they were both unassigned and showed up together, the officer placed them together almost automatically. Then there were full physical exams, mental ability tests, vaccinations, waivers, uniform fittings, class assignments, meeting with academic advisors, and everything else that they apparently needed for their entire time at the Academy, all stuffed into the very first day.

The college-y atmosphere had McCoy feeling strangely vulnerable, and in stupid, childish way it made him glad to have Kirk around. Not that he knew much about the guy. He recognized the name, of course, but otherwise he had a hard time figuring him out. Maybe his background explained part of that, though. At times he seemed eager and interested in everything new they were experiencing (although he was still less starry-eyed than most of their classmates, which McCoy found comforting); at others, he seemed nonchalant with just a tinge of anger, a kind of rebel extraordinaire, maybe just a little fucked up by life and various circumstances.

He should've been easy to read, two-dimensional. But apparently Jim Kirk was more complicated than that.

"At least there's an open bar," Jim remarked. "Unless you have any better ideas?"

"Me?" McCoy snorted. "An open bar's the best idea I've heard all day."

"Good enough."

*

The dinner lecture was tedious, but at least the food was excellent, a special eight-course meal to welcome new recruits with cuisine from all over the Federation. By the time it had finished, McCoy was feeling almost peaceable towards the world, and by the time they made their way to the "social", he was chatting amiably with someone else from their dinner table about the delights of the Bajoran larish pie.

The social was much as McCoy had expected – loud music, annoyingly colorful lights, an almost empty dance floor, and sad looking decorations hanging from every available space. Their dinner group hung around the entrance for a little while, still talking and looking skeptically around the room, when one of the members of their party said, "This blows. Let's ditch it."

"To do what?" asked Kirk.

The guy gave him a flirtatious smile and said in a low voice, "I've got some _x'salic_ back in my quarters, just enough for everyone. It gets you so high you won't need to stay in Starfleet to be in space." Some of the others brightened up and agreed, and Kirk looked a question at McCoy.

McCoy shook his head vehemently. "Do you know what that can do to your brain? The damage from one pill alone is enough to –" He broke off suddenly, frowning. "Aw, hell. You really don't need a lecture from me, do you. But I'm a little old for this kind of thing."

The guy shrugged and turned expectantly to Kirk, who was looking thoughtful. "Come on, it'll be fun," he wheedled, practically fluttering his eyelashes.

"You go ahead," McCoy said when Kirk still hadn't replied, because damn it, he wasn't a kid leaving home for the first time who needed a default friend to cling to. If Kirk wanted this kind of fun, that was really none of his business. McCoy could just go…socialize. Or something.

Kirk glanced at him, one corner of his mouth curving up slightly. "Thanks, but maybe another time," he told the cadet, who looked more than a little put-out as he returned to his other friends, giving McCoy a glare that he thought might be the tiniest bit deserved.

"You could have gone with them," he pointed out to Jim when the group had left. "I'm sure it'd be more fun than staying here. And I'm getting tired, I might just turn in."

"Nah, I'm trying to wean off the whole self-destructive thing. Plus, I like you better anyway." Jim grinned. "Come on, you can't leave, we still have to hit that open bar. You can tell me all about the adverse effects of this _x'salic_ on the humanoid body."

And McCoy did.

 

**2.**

"Bones, come _on_."

"Look, not all of us are naturally and weirdly brilliant at advanced acoustical engineering, Jim. I need to study."

"It's Friday night, your midterm is on Monday. You'll be fine."

McCoy scowled, then sat back in his chair with a sigh. "I wish I'd never taken this damn class. I'm a doctor, I don't need this shit."

"I know, I know," said Jim, patting his shoulder. "So maybe you should come drown your sorrows at the bar while I look out for some excitement, huh? I'll help you study tomorrow."

Since for some reason McCoy was easy when it came to Jim, he let Jim drag him out into the middle of the city somewhere. Even if the prospect of watching Jim play the field all night was not exactly appealing.

The bar he chose was dark and anonymous, perfect for picking up strangers. But to McCoy's surprise, Jim didn't leave him to find anyone after the first drink, or the second, or even the third. By the time McCoy was on his sixth, he realized that Jim was planning on staying and hanging out with him all night, and even as he wondered about it there was a warm feeling in his stomach that he couldn't entirely blame on the liquor.

Because they were friends, of course. Possibly on their way to being best friends, if such things mattered. McCoy had never had such an easy relationship before, at least not with someone who was so different. But that helped more than he would've expected; though they butted heads sometimes, they also complemented each other.

By the time the bar closed at 03:00, they had actually sobered up a little, and were only moderately unsteady on their feet. Still, McCoy thought it was as good a time as any to complain a little. "I'm getting too old for this," he moaned.

Jim shoved him lightly. "You're not even thirty, you old man, you."

"You make me feel older," McCoy grumbled, and oops, he was actually about to fall over there. Jim grabbed his arm to pull him upright.

"Thanks," McCoy breathed, and Jim's smile became just a little cockier.

"Dazzled by my youth, huh?" he said softly, and McCoy had to admit to himself that yes, sometimes his sheer energy, uncovered by months of high expectations and learning, was a sight to behold. And though it was dark, something must have changed in his expression, some admission of awe or admiration, because Jim frowned and peered closer at him, searching his face with those annoyingly blue eyes, until Jim drew in a quick breath and leaned in, and –

McCoy pulled his arm from Jim's grip and stepped back, feeling dizzy, and Jim stumbled a little.

"Sorry, sorry," McCoy said immediately, going forward, but this time it was Jim who moved away.

"I'm fine, it's no problem," he said easily, but his eyes were just a little shuttered, missing that telltale spark. "Let's go, yeah?"

"Jim –"

"Bones, it's okay, you're not interested –"

"No! I mean, yes. I mean –" McCoy rubbed his face with one hand. "Fuck. I'm divorced, that's what it is."

Jim frowned. "And this is a problem how? Generally, divorced means you're no longer married."

"No, but I'm _divorced_ divorced. Recently divorced. Still not entirely over it. And I don't just mean my ex-wife, Jim, I mean the whole fucked-up social system we have around sex and lust and love and marriage and _whatever_, I'm just not ready to handle that."

Jim looked a little shell-shocked, possibly not sober enough to deal with McCoy's emotional baggage, but not drunk enough to brush it off entirely. "You're the textbook definition of a pessimist, you know that?" he said finally, and then some of the tension was gone, and they were arguing again in their Jim-and-Bones way, solid and steady to the core.

"Just because I'm not an insatiable smart ass who gets off on taking risks –"

They began walking back up the hill. "Still better than being divorced divorced. Which sounds pretty stupid. Doubly divorced? Divorced squared?" Jim suggested. He slung an arm around McCoy's shoulder, leaning into him just a little again, and McCoy had to remind himself to catch his breath.

"It's all the same to me," he said, half-holding Jim up as they went. "Either way, no idea how long it'll last. Ask again in a few years, maybe."

"Deal," said Jim, still too warm and too close, as always.

 

**3.**

Reprogramming the _Kobayashi Maru_.

Not that Jim had asked for his help, but McCoy wouldn't have given it anyway.

 

**4.**

As soon as they had pulled to safety – and McCoy had to wonder at the extent of Jim's brilliance, forgetting about the gravitational pull of a _black hole_ – Jim arrived at the medical bay, all exuberance subdued.

"Bones, what can you do for him?" he said, looking at Pike lying sedated on a medical table.

And that was the question, wasn't it? McCoy had read about the effects of Centaurian slugs in med school, but in all his years of practicing it had never actually come up. He knew the textbook solution, but – "I'm not sure, Jim. He'll live, but it's unlikely he'll walk again."

"What are the options?" Jim said, intent.

McCoy sighed. It had been one hell of a day – an awful, unforgettable day, and though he could hear people in the halls celebrating their victory, he knew that it was hardly over. There were thousands of consequences to deal with, not least the man who had risked everything for his whole ship and was now here, paying the price.

"I've stopped most of the internal bleeding, so his condition isn't critical. He may need to undergo CPK enzymatic therapy as well to heal the neurological damage. The only way he could regain control of his legs is if I gave him a high dose of an anti-paralytic, preferably an Andorian drug, but Jim, it's extremely dangerous, and even if he survives it may not work completely."

"If he can't walk, he can't captain the Enterprise. His entire career –"

"What am I supposed to be saving here, his career or his life?" McCoy snapped, but he regretted the words almost immediately. He'd never seen Jim look like this before, as if his own life and hopes depended on it. McCoy knew what Pike meant to Jim and it was cruel to break the stubborn naiveté he had bestowed on Jim, because McCoy was pretty sure this was a no-win situation.

But settling for middle ground wasn't _losing_, either.

"I can't do this."

Jim put a hand on his shoulder, grasping possibly harder than he knew. "I trust you, Bones."

"I don't trust myself," said McCoy frankly. "I'm sorry, Jim, but I have to focus on keeping him alive. There's no cheating out of this."

Jim swallowed, staring still at Pike, then left the medical bay without a word. McCoy was tempted for brief moment to go after him, but this was neither the time nor place, and what he'd told Jim was true. He had work to do.

 

**5.**

It took some time for Kirk and Spock to entirely warm up to each other. Strangely, they worked extremely well together on the bridge, Spock having much less desire for command than anyone would've thought, and Kirk ready to listen to his advice and in turn use him as a sounding board for his own ideas. There were rarely any disputes between them, and their unique collaboration made everything run efficiently and effectively.

But off-duty, Spock was as aloof as ever, rarely spending time with any of the crew except for Lt. Uhura, and certainly not socializing with its captain. McCoy, as the dutiful and ever-patient best friend, had to suffer through numerous rants from Jim on Spock and their nonexistent relationship.

"He's a Vulcan, Jim."

"Half," Jim replied, stubborn.

"Yeah, but considering what happened the last time you pushed him until he showed emotions, I'm not sure you'll get quite the response you're looking for." McCoy studied him. "Why are you so hung up on this anyway? You work just fine together now."

"When we're not fighting crazy Romulans from the future, yeah. But we haven't really been tested since starting this mission, not with a real challenge or crisis. And when we do, I need to trust Spock like – like I trust you, Bones. I need to _understand_ him, know him practically inside-out." Jim paused. "Believe it or not, that wasn't actually meant to be dirty."

"You've thought about this a lot," said McCoy.

"The other Spock – in his universe, he and I, well, the other me – were known as the best team in Starfleet. And we were friends, Bones. So were you two."

"In _another universe_," said McCoy pointedly. Jim just gave him a look, and he sighed. "Okay, maybe your previous efforts have been too subtle. Why don't you just ask him to hang out? Or whatever the Vulcan equivalent, I guess."

Which was why the next day found Jim challenging Spock to a friendly game of chess. But Jim being Jim, he had to do it in the middle of their shift, making an event of the gesture itself. Spock seemed faintly surprised, one eyebrow lifting ever-so-slightly. "Of course, Captain," he said, as if it were an order instead of an invitation.

Jim frowned, looking ready to say something, but Scotty, looking up from examining a scanner, jumped in first with a delighted, "Oh, _this_ I want to see."

The rest of the bridge crew looked up, then. Sulu and Rand looked interested, Chekov eager and admiring, and Uhura amused. "Is this going to be a public match, Captain?" Scotty continued blithely.

"Uh," said Jim, shooting Spock a doubtful look.

Spock tilted his head a little. "That is acceptable," he said, and Jim seemed too pleased to argue.

By evening, the news had spread throughout the Enterprise, and at least twenty or so off-duty crew members were milling around in the recreation lounge when McCoy decided to poke his head in. Much more surprising was the boisterous, excitable atmosphere, as the crew called out encouragements and jeers and made bets based on every move, Scotty and Uhura taking the wagers. Spock was blank-faced and quiet but clearly not _dis_pleased, intent on the game, and Jim was grinning a little wildly, calling back at his detractors and threatening them all with demotions.

"Well, you sure know how to throw a great chess party," said McCoy dryly.

"Bones! Take a seat!" said Jim, waving a hand.

"Care to put down some money, Dr. McCoy?" said Scotty.

"Of course he would," Jim assured him. "The odds on me are pretty low, so you should make a killing even with only – say 10 credits?"

"I'll put down 10 credits," McCoy agreed. And paused for dramatic effect. "On Mr. Spock, that is."

Spock's eyes flickered towards him, the crew laughed, and Jim gave a mock-gasp. "Stabbed in the back by my own best friend!" he said mournfully. "Oh, the betrayal."

"Sorry, Jim, friendship only gets you so far."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Jim warned, looking happier than he had since they'd started their mission.

Jim didn't win, but it came close enough that the public chess games continued for a while. After a few weeks the novelty had worn off, but Spock and Kirk continued to play on their own time, clearly getting along much better, and McCoy had to admit he could see it reflected in their on-duty partnership. He took some credit for making it all happen, of course.

 

**and, 1.**

"You can't do this, Jim," said McCoy.

"Actually, I kind of can," Jim said mildly, gaze straight ahead as he strode down the hallway, McCoy at his side.

"That doesn't mean you should," McCoy replied angrily. "Beaming down into a warzone on a hunch that you'll even get out alive, let alone settle the battle? It's crazy. And you're not even taking Spock!"

Jim, of course, didn't bother to address the first part of that statement. "Someone needs to be in command in case this goes sour, and you know that Lt. Sulu will be excellent backup."

They were nearly to the transporter room. "Then let me come too," McCoy persisted. "If either of you gets hurt it's unlikely you'll be able to beam aboard in time. If I'm there –"

Jim swung around, looking at him for the first time, grabbing his wrist with a sudden intensity. "_No_, Bones. I need you up here too, and I'm not bringing my CMO into a danger zone for absolutely no reason."

"Jim –"

"That's an order," Jim said quietly, and McCoy was just about ready to kill whatever imbecile had put James T. Kirk in a position of command because this was clearly an abuse of power.

Jim's hand was still gripping hard at his wrist, warm and familiar, and even if this was the last time that McCoy got to see his ridiculous face, he couldn't help glaring. "You," he said futilely, because he didn't know what the words were for this, didn't know how to summarize years of friendship into a few sentences, didn't know how to explain that not only had he wanted to be there every time Jim needed him, but he needed Jim too, and perhaps it was inevitable that McCoy would make a career out of following him around the universe.

He didn't have the words to say any of that; all he had was Jim's eyes staring anxiously into his own, a wealth of meaning and history behind them, and that defiant Kirk look that said he was willing to take this risk and damn anyone who disagreed.

McCoy suddenly felt blasted open by that look, pushed closer towards the brink of something, because here was Jim once again teetering on the edge with almost no thought for himself, and it was too much. He felt a flash of heat in his stomach, and he knew that no matter what happened here, Jim was going into a deadly situation where he needed his wits about him, to keep sharp and not be distracted; while McCoy needed to keep himself safe even more than usual since it seemed he had so much more to lose. But none of that seemed to matter. The curl of desire and _need_ in his stomach and the look in Jim's eyes told McCoy that only this moment counted, and that was worth it. And all things considered, it seemed strangely right that he should growl out, "you're an _idiot_," before grabbing the front of Jim's shirt and dragging him in.

Jim was still for only a moment before his mouth opened under McCoy's, now clutching his wrist so hard it was painful, and McCoy had to fist his other hand even tighter in Jim's shirt just to keep upright. This was nothing like McCoy had ever imagined, in the tiny spaces of his mind that had wondered about this; really, this was nothing like their friendship at all, playful and easy even when they fought. This, this was desperate and blindingly hot, so necessary that he couldn't think how to let himself lose it. He bit Jim's bottom lip, a punishment and an apology, and Jim made a sound that had McCoy shuddering, so it was perhaps a good thing that Jim had the presence of mind to push McCoy away and stumble back a few steps.

Jim stared at him, mouth red and just a bit swollen, and fuck, goodbye kisses were not supposed to be this goddamn _obscene_. It was all McCoy could do to keep from pulling him in again.

"Bones," said Jim, raw and unsteady.

"If you get yourself killed down there," McCoy said evenly, "so help me, I will bring you back to life just to kill you myself."

"You'd better," Jim said hoarsely, before he turned into the transporter room, leaving McCoy alone in the hallway.

And as he heard the transporter beaming them down, he had a sinking feeling that he would never see Jim Kirk again.

*

Of course, Jim and Sulu were back two hours later, mostly unharmed and having accomplished their mission, and McCoy thought that only Kirk could be this insufferable to make McCoy so simultaneously irritated and relieved to see the triumphant look on his face.

McCoy took them back to the medical bay and patched up Sulu's wounds, the captain watching all the while, before he dismissed Sulu and turned silently to Jim. He could feel his cheeks burning as he scanned Jim, resolutely ignoring it as he cleared up the stupid, foolhardy scratches on his arms and face, trying not to look him in the eye.

"So," said Jim, voice light. "You still divorced divorced?"

"What would you do if I said yes?" said McCoy, hand stilling on a graze on Jim's shoulder.

"I would call complete and utter bullshit, and say I have the bite marks to prove it," said Jim, smirking.

"It could've been temporary insanity," McCoy protested, and then Jim was standing and reaching for him again, and McCoy might deny it later but he couldn't help meeting him halfway.

He could feel Jim's grin on his mouth, and he knew that this was how it was supposed to be, though as Jim pulled him closer, he had an idle thought that desperate and angry was a good mood for them too, and maybe they should try it again sometime.

…which was definitely a dangerous line of thinking, and had McCoy breaking away with a frown on his face.

"Where are you going?" said Jim, almost pouting.

"You need to rest," McCoy said.

"_Bones_," Jim chided, tilting his head and beginning to kiss down his neck. McCoy tried his best not to lean into the touch.

"Look, Jim, I'm – _oh_ – not exactly great at this."

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle with you," Jim told him, and laughed when McCoy swatted him and pushed him away.

"You know what I mean."

"Bones, every person is different," Jim said seriously. "I'm not your ex-wife – thank God – or anyone else you've ever had in your life, so we're different. You need to take a chance on that."

"I'm not the risk-taker here, Jim. And one thing I know is that nothing can fuck up a good friendship like sex."

"Being friends with a risk-taker pretty much makes you one, doesn't it? And hey, even if you're bad at this, you just have to trust me that I'm not. Do you really think you could keep me out of your life even if you wanted to?" Jim was looking at him in a way that McCoy had never expected, young and uncertain and – incomplete. "You're in Starfleet, so there's nowhere left to run, and here I'd just follow you around and keep at you until you started tolerating me again," he continued softly, and well, maybe Jim was just as mixed up and nervous as he was.

McCoy opened his mouth to reply, but Jim shook his head and continued. "And why are we talking about this now anyway? I could've died out there, I think I deserve some awesome heroically-risked-my-life sex." He looked at McCoy, eyes bright and full of life. "What do you say?"

McCoy thought about all the years he'd known Jim, all the stupid things he had done and foolish ventures he'd taken, the trouble that McCoy himself had gotten into because of his friend, and he knew that this was only one more thing to worry about. There were the dangerous situations to think of, the chance of being emotionally compromised, the possible STIs and heartbreaks, all the shit that came along with James T. Kirk.

But then – when he considered saying no, all he could think of was how his own life had grown more exciting since Jim and Starfleet had entered it, vibrant and so much more alive that it was almost intoxicating, and he knew that he could never go back. Maybe there was no use trying to even stay still, not when he had a force of energy for a best friend and a, a something else, and it seemed inevitable that he would be swept up completely in the whirlwind.

"I guess if you're going to follow me around, I may as well get something out of it," McCoy said, rolling his eyes but stepping closer, and the change in Jim's expression was enough to make him certain that this was right.

"Oh, trust me," said Jim, grinning and pulling McCoy closer, eyes flashing with desire and just a hint of mischief, "you will."

And McCoy did.


End file.
